Reverie
by strophic
Summary: Lucifer has arisen once more and he's looking for the remainder of the one thing that made him an angel- his grace. But Heaven has different plans for the final piece of the puzzle- they've chosen someone on Earth to receive it...
1. Meet the Family

Hey everyone, it's strophic aka ShadowAngel116. It's been a long time since I last wrote a fanfiction, hasn't it? Well, this time I'm back with a new idea and I'm hoping to share it with you all. Yes, it's another Supernatural fanfic- new OCs, new plot. For those who've read my previous fanfics, thanks for your support in the past. For those of you who are new to the game, thanks for taking the time to read my new fanfic. I've changed my writing style and thus, hope that my writing has taken a turn for the better.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the CW television series Supernatural. If I did, I would be happy. Not just plain happy, though- freaking ecstatic-ohmygodyes-jumpingforjoy happy. That and I'd claim a certain rebellious angel whose name rhymes with 'Dastiel'. And yes, that rhymes in my head.

Warning: Season 5 (and maybe Season 4?) spoilers and language. Currently rated T.

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**Chapter 01 – "Meet the Family"**

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Night had never been much of an ally. It swallowed up the sunlight, devouring it bit by bit until the rays died away and faded into neverending black. It proved to be one hell of an adversary, especially when it was during this. There was no telling what would happen, what would become- no telling what would come out.

It was when the things that went bump in the night came out. It was when Hell was unleashed on Earth.

But at this point, the difference between day and night didn't matter anymore. The Apocalypse had already begun; Hell had already descended- or in perhaps _ascended_ would be the better word.

Either way, they would have to fight for their lives- a survival of the fittest. That was an absolute truth.

_Stop thinking about that_, he chided himself. He gripped the steering wheel harder and continued at his regular pace, eyes trained on the dark road ahead of him. He had been driving for hours on end and he could feel the beginnings of tiredness fall upon him- yet he kept going on sheer adrenaline on what he was about to do.

_Adrenaline_ _is a wonderful thing_, he mused. No matter how many times he felt it, it affected him differently every single time. It made him feel like Superman- something he hadn't felt in a while for someone his age.

Suddenly, the car stuttered underneath him, the engine coughing and hacking as it rolled to a stop, smoke billowing from the sides of the front cover.

He turned the key. The ignition groaned. Nothing.

He tried again. A promising roar came and died to a hiss.

Sighing, he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door, slamming it unceremoniously as he sauntered to the front of the car, opening the cover and turning away with a cough as more smoke choked out. Waving away the remainders of the smoke, he looked around for the source of his car troubles, and seemingly found nothing. He scratched his head in confusion.

That's when he heard the clicking. The loud snap of gravel digging under the pressure of heel and toe.

His heart raced, adrenaline pumped, palms sweating as he heard the clicking stop beside him and looked up as the voice came.

"Can I help you?"

* * *

He looked up slowly and was immediately bombarded with the visage of an incredibly attractive woman: large dark eyes framed with long lashes, lush, naturally full lips that would make Angelina Jolie blush, the most perfect curves that every woman would die for and every man would kill to feel in their arms, and those legs- _oh_, those mile long legs…

Needless to say, he was…stunned. And staring at her. Gawking over her curves, eyes traveling ever so slowly from her lips moving, asking the same question, and down, down…

_Quit thinking with your downstairs brain, idjit_, he reprimanded himself. He couldn't be distracted- not at this point.

"Sir?"

He shook his head. "My car, uh, suddenly broke down. I can't find anything that's wrong with it, though." He sighed tiredly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've never had this sort of problem before…it just…I promised my wife I'd be back home soon and that I'd be able to get back in time for dinner…" He shook his head again in disbelief. "Could this get any worse?"

The two jumped as a car tire exploded.

"Yeah…do you have anything to fix that?" He ran his hand through his hair and nodded towards the car.

"I, uh, have a spare and some tools in the backseat." He moved towards the handle of the car door and paused when she placed a hand on his arm.

She stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Ah, let me do it." She smiled flirtatiously, letting her fingers gently caress the length of his arm, fixing the collar of his shirt. He felt slightly dizzy from her touch and his nostrils filled with her sweet scent.

Clearing his throat, he moved away and watched as she opened the door and peeked inside to see the spare.

She was reaching in when she heard a noise behind her and turned just in time to see the glint of a blade rushing towards her.

The last thing she heard was the rush of wind, along with what sounded like "Surprise…"

The blade sliced through cleanly. And only one sound was heard after.

**Thump.**

* * *

"Damn," he muttered, running a hand down his face and sighing heavily. "Damn," he repeated, shaking his head.

The now-dead Pagan God laid by the side of the road, her head a few feet away from the body and her face frozen in a surprised expression. Every now and then he'd glance over at it, unable to keep his eyes off of it.

"Dad, really?" he looked over to his left at his daughter, who was now wiping the bloody sword she had used a few minutes ago with a rag, and watching him as she balanced it in her hand. He didn't respond and looked down at his feet as he heard her scoff and continue her cleanup.

"You just COULDN'T stop thinking with your downstairs brain, couldn't you?" he heard another voice say and winced as he looked up to see his wife, an enraged expression on her face as she threw open the trunk, weapons clanging about.

"Um…I love you, sweetie?" he tried and grimaced as she angrily slammed down the trunk, shooting him one of her death glares. He tried again. "Honey, I-" he stopped as she put up her hand.

"No! Don't you 'honey' and 'baby' me this time, Gregory." Without another word, she got into shotgun as his daughter climbed into the backseat, the sword sheathed and placed next to her.

Heaving another sigh, he went to the front of the car and pulled down the hood after readjusting a wire or two, then got into the car.

A turn of the key and the ignition roared to life- driving off into the distance.

* * *

After a while, he glanced at the rearview mirror at his daughter. Her head was leaning against the window, apparently asleep.

He felt the corner of his mouth quirk as he glanced again at her. When he first found out that his wife was pregnant, he had been kind of hoping for a boy. A boy to continue their family name- the Miller hunting clan. He hadn't been disappointed with the birth of his baby girl- well, maybe just a little bit. But nevertheless, he gave her the name 'Riley Jane' (the 'Jane' added as a feminine touch by his wife) and trained her just as much as he would've trained a son. And surprisingly, she picked up the training extremely well. He had another girl a few years later and finally had his prayers answered a couple of years after- Rachel Ann Miller and Joshua Chase, both who were also trained to keep up with their older sister. Although he hoped to have a normal life with his family, it hadn't been possible.

He glanced sideways. His wife still stared out the window, saying nothing throughout the car ride. He couldn't tell if she was mad- but judging by her tense shoulders, she was sending him daggers.

Either way, his wife looked beautiful. He was still amazed on how she had picked him out of all the men she could've had- after all, she had it everything- brains and beauty. It had been one hell of a surprise when he found out that she had been a hunter all her life. He, on the other hand, had come into the hunting world when he turned eighteen. They had been in the same high school- him being the typical loner while she had been the stereotypical popular head cheerleader, homecoming queen- and smartest girl in the school. Unlike most girls, she knew she was attractive- and didn't flaunt it.

Of course, he didn't have the courage to say anything to her.

The two of them were locked in a classroom one day after school- both had stayed behind to clean up the aftermath of a farewell party for a teacher and another teacher, not seeing them, had closed the door, which locked on its own. After a period of yelling for help and banging on the door, awkwardness descended upon the two. Eventually, she had been the first to speak.

"_What's your name?" she had asked, looking at the boy leaning against the wall. _

_He had looked over at her, not knowing really why she would be speaking to him, and then opened his mouth._

"_Gregory. Gregory Miller."_

_She smiled that perfect smile of hers and walked over to him, extending her hand._

"_My name's Cecilia. Cecilia Adams." She tucked a blonde strand behind her ear and waited for him to shake her hand._

_After a while, he took her hand in a firm handshake. _

They were found by a custodian several hours later, talking to each other as if they had known each other all their lives. And after that incident, they kept talking to each other and took their first hunt together as partners.

Then they started dating.

Seven years later, they got married.

Cecilia had told him before that she would give up hunting for a normal life after getting pregnant. And she did…for a little while.

The two of them had tried it for a little while. But eventually they found that it was simply impossible for them.

Being a hunter simply meant being a hunter for life. It wasn't a job- it was a lifestyle the two of them had chosen. There was no going back to normalcy. Not when you knew what was out there.

After he came back from another hunt with a shapeshifter, she threw in the towel and gave up ever trying to have that perfect fairy-tale life she had hoped for and began hunting alongside him once more. And to ensure that their kids would never have to face any of the supernatural, they took on day jobs- Cecilia as a secretary at a clinic and Gregory as a mechanic at the local car shop. At night, they set their children with a babysitter and went out for the hunt.

Their kids never really knew what their parents did- all they knew was that Mommy and Daddy were going after the monsters that hid under their beds and their closets and lived to scare little children. They led what seemed to be normal lives- going to school, meeting friends, etc.

But they all found out anyway- with Riley being the first to have an actual encounter. She began hunting alongside them occasionally, learning the tricks of the trade from the veterans.

Eventually, a babysitter simply wasn't reliable anymore (that and it began becoming hard to explain what exactly the two did every night) and left their oldest, Riley, in charge.

But their lifestyle caught up to them- and in the worst way possible.

They left the comfort of their home in Richmond, Virginia and began traveling on the road in his 1971 Chevy Caprice, bringing only their weaponry and their grim knowledge of what would possibly happen to them should they attempt to settle down again along with them.

* * *

Cecilia noticed her husband's staring and was now looking at him weirdly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked cautiously.

"It's nothing," he replied with a small smile.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him before turning to the window again.

Scorned women were never a good thing.

* * *

He glanced at Riley, then at Cecilia, the smile still on his lips. He had always been grateful for three things- his wife, daughter, and his beloved '71 Chevy Caprice. He had always called them his "girls"- without all three of them, he really didn't know how he would've survived after the incident and after the Apocalypse descended on them, destroying so many of his fellow hunters in the process.

After seeing so many people with broken families, he became truly thankful for his.

After hearing about the impending doom of humankind, he had simply nodded and accepted his possible fate. He had lived a good life. He had fulfilled his dream of settling down and having a family- however short it might've been.

If he was to die now, he would go away with a smile on his face and a big "Fuck you" to all the demons.

But it wasn't his time to go. Not yet.

For now, he'd keep going- until the time came for him, he'd keep walking this thorned path of his. Being a hunter had never been about roses and being a hero for him.

It was always about keeping other people from seeing what they saw everyday in their lives. For those people, demons and Lucifer were nothing but myths, bad dreams.

But for them, it was a never ending nightmare.

Gregory gripped the wheel harder and pushed the gas pedal roughly, speeding down the long road- following it to wherever it would go.

* * *

And here's the first chapter. I came up with the idea for this fanfic after creating a canon character with the last name Miller (Riley Jane Miller) in an Invisionfree RPG board and the story kinda grew from there.

I got stuck for a while in deciding a title name for this story and finally came up with one today on my birthday (I give the credit to my friends who were giving me ideas).

My apologies for not writing in such a long time. School caught up and I had too many college-related things to worry about. Alas, 'tis the life of a high school senior.

I'm in the process of writing the second chapter- I just have to run with a couple ideas and see where it takes me. But I'll give you a tiny hint as to how it'll start (since I've gotten past it already):

"Come and Get It" by AC/DC.

Until then,

/strophic


	2. Hope

Holy sweet Cheez-Its, I'm finally back. I apologize for the severely long wait- a lot of things have happened to me since the first chapter was posted up. I went through my last days in high school, cried, and prepared myself for the onslaught of something called college. Then I got a new computer, lost my old backups, and I had to start chapters I had started anew. And on top of all that, family issues came along, so I never really got the chance to sit down and brainstorm my chapters again.

But here I am with the second chapter after...more than two years! Again, HUGE apologies...and I hope this chapter will make up for the time lost. Season 5 and 6 has ended with Season 7 stomping steadily along, but this story will still be based off of Season 5. So the Apocalypse is still nigh, Sammy still has his soul, and Castiel is still rather clueless (and curious) to pop culture references and some emotions. The only difference is that Bobby will not be confined to a wheelchair- but is free to riverdance.

Let's get started!

Warning: Season 5 spoilers (although it doesn't really matter now) and language.

Disclaimer: Usual stuff about how I don't own Supernatural and whatnot, but if I did, a certain trenchcoat wearing angel would be mine.

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**Chapter 02 - "Hope"**

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It had been a long time since he slept this well. And without his usual nightmare, too.

He opened his eyes slowly and found himself sitting in a chair surrounded by nothing but dark.

"What the hell-"

Guitar riffs suddenly rang out of nowhere and Dean furrowed his brow.

"Is that…AC/DC?" He looked around again, confused. "Wait, what?"

Now he was staring directly at a curtain covered stage in front of him.

"Wha-"

_Picking up the sleaze in my car_

His eyes widened as the lights dimmed around him and brightened on stage, the music pounding through invisible speakers- and the red satin curtains parted to reveal a woman wearing a large trenchcoat tied at the waist.

Before he could process what was going on, he watched as she whipped off the bothersome jacket, throwing it in his direction and stepped into the spotlight, now clad in skimpy red lingerie.

_Hell no distance too far_

Smiling at his surprised face, she began dancing seductively, her hips moving in perfect rhythm with the beat as her fingers wrapped around a pole that appeared behind her, sliding down slowly.

_Burning down the road in the night_

_Don't you scold me or I'll bite_

As if to emphasize the lyrics, she bit the tip of her finger as she spun around on the pole. He grinned widely.

_These are the finer things in life _

_Don't think you live in paradise_

"Now this," he murmured, leaning back on the chair comfortably as she continued her dance, his eyes roaming freely down her figure, "is what I'm talking about."

_I've got my filly wrapped in red_

She moved towards him, her tongue running over her bottom lip as she stroked his cheek gently, her eyes moving from his down to his mouth. She leaned in, as if to kiss him-

And stepped back, pressing her finger softly on his lips as she turned on her heel and strutted back to the pole, her hips swaying hypnotically.

_Upon my double decker bed_

_If you want it come and get it (come and get it)_

She crooked her finger at him, beckoning to him.

He smirked.

_If you want it come and get it (come and get it)_

_If you want it come and get it (come and get it)_

_If you want it come and get it_

The music stopped and the girl disappeared.

He sat up and looked around, a bewildered look on his face.

"Dean." Dean nearly jumped into the ceiling at the sound of his name and gritted his teeth in frustration as he slowly turned to face a certain trench coat wearing angelic figure.

"Cas," he said through his teeth. "What do you want and what the hell are you doing in my dream? Better yet- _HOW_ the hell did you know where we are would be the better question because I do not remember calling you."

"I do not need to know where you are to appear in your dream."

Castiel tilted his head as he surveyed Dean's response to his answer. He seemed to look like he was in pain, but as far as he could tell, there were no visible wounds on his body. "Dean, are you alright?"

_Am I okay- no Cas, you just stopped me from having one of the best dreams I've had in a long time_, Dean thought as he rubbed his temples. "I'm fine, Cas. Now will you please tell me what you want?"

"There is a situation," Cas replied as he began looking around his surroundings and touched the velvet wall curiously.

"What is it- demons gone wild?"

"No."

"Killer teddy bears?"

"No."

"Archangels?"

"No."

"Rogue angels?" Dean noticed Cas visibly stiffen and quickly said, "Sorry."

"...No."

"Then what is it?"

"People are killing each other in bloody carnage in Wichita, Oklahoma."

"Okay. And what do you think it is?"

Cas glanced over at him.

"A horseman. A lesser one."

"Lesser one to what?"

"War. We're dealing with Rage."

"Rage?"

"Yes."

Dean shook his head. "Wait a second, you mean to tell me that we're dealing with a lackey."

"A horseman."

"A lesser one. So what's lesser than that? A pony? We're dealing with a ponyman?"

"I'm serious, Dean!" Castiel stepped closer. "WE HAVE TO STOP HIM," he said in a low thundering voice.

"All right, all right," Dean muttered as he stepped back a little. "Calm down." He ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily.

It was time to work.

_Just when we were getting to the good stuff, _Dean thought, his mind lingering back to the beginning of his dream.

"So…." Dean looked up from his seat at the angel before him. "We'll meet you there, I guess?"

"No," Castiel handed over a slip of paper that Dean skimmed over quickly. "Meet me here."

He glanced around at his surroundings and then focused on Dean again.

"Hurry."

Immediately, Dean woke with a start.

"_No," Castiel handed a piece of paper to him. "Meet me here." Dean skimmed it over quickly, reading 'Bobby's'._

_He glanced around one more time and focused on Dean._

"_Hurry."_

"Sammy," Dean whispered as he threw off the covers and grabbed his pillow. "Sammy!" he spoke loudly.

"M-muh?" Sam groggily mumbled in his sleep, opening his eyes enough to see a pillow slam into his face. "**OW!**" He immediately sat up and yanked the pillow off his face. "What the hell, Dean?!"

"Wake up, Sammy- we gotta go to Bobby's." Dean replied as he quickly ducked from a flying pillow into the bathroom.

"B-Bobby's?" Sam managed through a yawn as Dean came back out and tossed a few items into their bags. "Why?"

"Because Cas is meeting us there." Sam's eyes widened at the mentioning of the renegade angel.

"Wha- Cas? Dean, what's going on?"

"I'll explain later. Hurry up- we're leaving in 10 minutes." Sam nodded and hastily pushed away the blankets.

* * *

Dean pounded at the door. "Bobby," he called.

"Is he even home?" Sam asked as they waited impatiently.

"Cas wouldn't tell us to come here if he knew Bobby wasn't home, genius."

"Then why the hell is he taking so long to get to the door?"

"Like I would know!" Dean paced back and forth and faced the back door again. "Screw it," he growled and stepped back.

"Wait Dean, what are you-"

A resounding smash came from the door as Dean kicked it open.

Sam sighed and gave Dean a look. "Seriously?"

"Shut up," Dean grumbled and walked inside. "Bobby!"

"I guess…he's not home," Sam said as they walked through the hall.

"Or he's not paying attention," Dean retorted and walked over to the basement door. "Bobby!"

"Did you call?" Sam asked as they turned into the library.

"Yeah, but he wasn't picking up."

"Well there's his beer. He must be around here somewhere." Sam glanced around and pointed at the sliding doors leading to the kitchen. "Kitchen, maybe?"

The two had hardly opened the doors when a knife suddenly whizzed past Dean's ear. The two brothers dove to opposite sides of the floor.

Dean peeked out again.

"SHIT!" Dean yelled as he moved back quickly as two more knives flew past him. "Bobby, it's us!"

The flying knives stopped.

Both Winchesters looked over at each other and slowly peeked inside the kitchen as they got up. Seeing nothing, the two walked in.

"…Bobby?" Sam asked hesitantly as they looked around.

"You IDJITS!" Bobby growled from behind them. The two spun around to see the veteran hunter- and struggled not to laugh at the strange choice of attire he was wearing. He glared at the brothers. "What the hell are you laughing about?"

"What's, uh, with the apron, Bobby?" Dean smirked as Sam looked around to avoid laughing out loud.

Bobby looked down at himself, seeing the frilly pink apron he still had tied around his waist. He narrowed his eyes at the sniggering Winchesters and ripped off the offending item, flinging it into a chair as he stomped his way past them, muttering something about "the idjit brothers" under his breath.

"What are you boys doin' here, anyway?" Bobby asked as he grabbed a couple potholders and opened the oven door.

"We're here because of…" Sam's voice trailed off as the brothers exchanged glances, staring at the hunter hunched over the oven. Dean suddenly grabbed his brother's arm. "Ow, what?"

"Do I smell pie?" Dean whispered, eyes wide.

"What?" Sam stared at him. "Are your pie senses tingling or something?" Sam asked incredulously as Dean looked around, sniffing.

"Shut up," Dean hissed.

"Hello? You're here because of WHAT?" Bobby asked again as he turned to look at the brothers.

"Cas. We're here because of Cas," Sam finished.

"Oh." Bobby's voice echoed as he reached into the oven and pulled something out. "Well…I knew you weren't here for my pie."

"Excuse me?" Dean spoke slowly. "Did you…just say..." He shook his head and moved closer. "You made pie?"

* * *

Sam poked at his slice of apple pie on his plate with his fork. He wasn't hungry- not that the pie wasn't good. Honestly, he was surprised at how well Bobby could make pie- probably because his late wife, Karen, had shown him how to make it. It wasn't as good as she had made it, but…well, it tasted pretty decent.

The only thing on his mind was the case that Dean had filled him in on during their car ride to Bobby's. That and what Castiel needed to tell them here that he couldn't say while in Dean's dream.

Speaking of the rebel angel, Cas appeared not too long after the boys sat down with their individual slices of pie. He took one of the pastries for himself, and was sitting at the table, savoring it with both delight and curiosity etched on his face in trying something that Dean had always been talking about.

Sam glanced over at his older brother and stared.

Saying that Dean loved pie…was an understatement. A **huge** understatement. It'd be like telling someone that Dean only _liked_ Metallica and all sorts of 'mullet rock', as Sam called it.

The second the man got his pie slice, he set about his task of jamming it down his throat. And then another slice. And then another.

At this point, Dean looked more like he was inhaling the pie rather than eating it.

"Are you intending to eat yourself to the next year? Or the next century?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean narrowed his eyes and replied with something along the lines of "Mmmph mmph," and swallowed. "Shut up, Sammy." He eyed Sam's plate and pointed to it. "You gonna finish that?"

Sam sighed, shook his head, and pushed the plate across the table. Dean grinned and snatched the pie slice, digging into it like a madman and finishing it within seconds. He leaned back and patted his stomach with a satisfied smile.

"Hey Cas." The angel looked over at Sam.

"Yes, Sam Winchester?"

"So…we're dealing with a horseman?"

"A lesser horseman, yes."

"What's the difference anyway?" Dean asked. "I mean between one of the five Horsemen of the Apocalypse and a so-called 'lesser' Horseman like Rage."

"Lesser horsemen are parts of the horsemen. They do coexist with humans, but usually only have enough power to strike once in a while. Since Lucifer's trying to bring the Horsemen to the surface, he's changing that."

"And giving them enough juice to wreak havoc wherever they go," Sam finished and the angel nodded.

"Yes. With that amount of power, they have the ability to do things close to their creator. Rage, at his usual power, could only cause some disorder amongst humanity."

"Which horseman does Rage belong to?"

"War," Castiel replied, his brow furrowed as he looked down at his pie slice, poking at the crust with his fork.

"What kind of damage has he done in Wichita so far?" Bobby asked, looking slightly amused at Castiel's interest in the pastry.

"Rage has people at each other's throats. They're tearing each other apart," he answered, picking up an apple piece and biting into it carefully.

"So he's manipulating them into violence? How long does it take for it to start?"

"I do not know. But it's moving at a rapid pace and like a disease- sooner or later, Rage will become tired and move onto the next state he deems worthy. You must hurry."

"Right." Dean looked over at his younger brother. "We'll start heading down to Wichita." The two began to stand up.

"Wait," Bobby stopped them. "I have someone you should go to find out the current situation around town." He walked over to the desk and scribbled down something on paper, handing it to the brothers.

"Gregory Miller? Who's he?"

"Greg Miller is a good friend of mine. He's a hunter, his wife's a hunter- your dad and I both worked with them and take it from me- these people are people you want on your side. They have one hell of a network- they know anything and everything that goes on in their vicinity- which means you'll have a field day if you work with them. When you meet Greg, tell him that Bobby Singer sent you."

"We'll keep you posted, Bobby." Dean looked over at the angel still poking at another apple slice. "Cas? You coming or are you hoping that pie will talk to you?"

"Inanimate objects do not talk, Dean," Castiel replied firmly as he broke off a piece of the crust, scrutinizing it. "I will join you later."

"Right then." Sam picked up his jacket. "We'll see you later."

Bobby nodded and clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Be careful, boys."

* * *

"Well this seems to be the place," Sam said as the two brothers looked out at a car garage, a sign hanging overhead that said "Miller".

"Seems to be." Dean ground the engine to a halt and popped out the key. "Let's see if anyone's home."

The brothers walked up to the open doorway of the garage and glanced around.

Cars, both vintage and recent, were lined up- some raised up onto platforms, some with their hoods up, and some with limbs missing.

"Wow," Sam murmured as he examined one car.

"Dude, what the hell? It's bigger on the inside!"

"Huge, actually. And look at the cars they have. They must be repairing 24/7," Sam replied as he examined one car's interior with his brother.

"Can I help you boys?" A voice rang out. The two looked up and found a middle-aged man smiling at them.

"Oh! Uh, yeah- I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean. We're looking for Gregory Miller?"

"Well, you got him. Do you need anything?" he glanced behind them and gestured to the Impala, "Tune up?"

"No, uh...Bobby Singer sent us," Dean said.

"Oh! Well then," he pointed behind him at a door, "Come this way." He turned and began walking away.

Dean glanced over at Sam as if to ask, _Should we?_

_Like we have a choice, _Sam shrugged and the two quickly went after him.

Gregory opened the door and gestured to the two. "After you."

The brothers stepped through into the dim back room, with Gregory right behind as he locked the door, glancing down to ensure that the salt line wasn't disturbed, and switched on the lights.

"Greg." A tall blonde woman stood in front of the brothers with a bucket on her hip. Without another word, she threw the contents at the boys.

"HEY!" Sam choked out as they were hit with a wave of holy water and felt Gregory grab his arm, yanking it out, followed by a sharp, biting pain. Wiping his eyes hurriedly, he saw the man wielding a dagger and doing the same to Dean, a single cut across his forearm.

Dean snatched his arm back with an angry growl. "What the hell, man!"

Gregory held out the dagger by the blade. "Silver dagger." He pulled up his sleeve and pressed the edge to his arm, hissing slightly as it drew blood. The woman walked over and did the same.

"Now that we're all safe and sound," Gregory began, sheathing the dagger and pulling down his sleeve slowly. "I'm Greg, and this is my wife, Cecilia."

"Pleasure, boys," the blonde said with a smile and shook hands with the still stunned brothers. "Towels?"

"Uh, that'd be great, thanks," Sam answered, nodding slightly. Greg murmured an assent and she walked off around a corner.

"So...Sam and Dean Winchester, huh?" Greg asked, turning to walk towards a mini fridge sitting next to a workbench. The fridge door opened and glass clinked. "I haven't heard that last name for a while." He closed the fridge and turned back around, offering two cold beer bottles in one hand. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a John Winchester, would you?"

"Yes sir." The two brothers took a bottle each.

"John Winchester," the middle aged man sighed and popped open another beer, tipping it back and taking a swig. "That man was the best partner I could ask for. Told me he had two boys, too." He shook his head solemnly. "Shame he's on the other side." He lifted his bottle. "To your dad. Man was one hell of a force to be reckoned with.

The brothers popped open their beers and silently lifted them in a toast, and drank. What hit their taste buds next was absolutely repulsive and it showed on their faces.

"Mother-" Dean choked as he spat out his mouthful, Sam coughing heavily beside him. "What the hell is in that thing?!" he croaked as he felt his nose burn from the liquid.

"Well, now we're sure that they're not demons," Cecilia's voice chimed in, walking in with two small towels in her hands. She tossed one to each brother.

"Holy water beer laced with salt," Gregory answered and walked over to pat the two brothers on the shoulder. "Sorry boys. Had to be positive."

"Ugh," Dean groaned, pulling himself back up from his hunched position, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was fucking disgusting," he grumbled to Sam.

"Beer?" Gregory asked, popping open the fridge again.

"Pass."

"Sure?" He shrugged. "Your loss."

* * *

"Bobby's been in contact with you?" Sam asked as the three walked slowly. The back room was attached to a warehouse filled with car parts lining shelves and was a decent enough size to have a few cars here and there, all under repair. There were large toolboxes on workbenches and lanterns hung up under some cars lifted up in the air. About half of the warehouse was sectioned off for the family's usage with a kitchen, dining table, a bathroom, and two bedrooms- all part of a little impromptu tour the patriarch was giving to the Winchester boys.

"Yeah. Ever since this started happening around town, we've been trying to get more information about what exactly we're dealing with. It's not like anything we've ever seen- and considering how fast this has been spreading, there's only a matter of time before it hitches a ride out of Wichita." Gregory answered, pausing to lean against the doorframe as he faced the brothers. "And this is where I assume that you have an idea since Bobby sent you to me. So..." he gestured to them.

"It's going to sound pretty insane. Even to a hunter like yourself."

Gregory chuckled. "I don't think you can surprise me, son. I mean, Lucifer, and all that we've been through."

"Well...we're facing a lesser horseman. Rage, to be exact."

The older man stared silently at Sam. "I stand corrected," he spoke after a while and got off the doorframe, rubbing his forehead. "When you say 'horseman', I assume the ones from the Bible pertaining to the Apocalypse?"

"Yes sir."

"Well...shit." He sighed and shook his head. "What do you mean by 'lesser'?"

"They're the ones that are parts of the Horsemen. They usually only have enough power to strike once in a while, but with Lucifer mucking up the place, they're getting enough juice to be able to screw around a lot more."

"And the one we have in our town?"

"It's Rage. He's part of War."

Gregory cursed under his breath. "Damn. What can we do to get rid of it? How do we do it?"

"To be honest...we're not sure yet," Sam admitted. "We need to figure that one out. So Bobby sent us to you."

"Well, we don't know either. At least, now it somewhat makes sense now that you've explained it." They walked back out to the warehouse, with Gregory closing the door behind them.

"What does?"

"The fights, the riots- the violent killings. It's like everyone turned into savages. People tore each other apart even if they looked at each other wrong." The patriarch led the brothers towards a row of cars.

"When did it start?"

"Uh..." Gregory paused in thought. "I'd say around a week ago after we got back from a case. Killed a Pagan god."

"Pagan god? Interesting."

"I'm sure he found her even more interesting." They turned to see Cecilia walking past with a dishcloth in her hands, a glare directed at her husband.

"Still mad, dear?" He placed an arm around her shoulder. She shrugged it off and jabbed her husband with an elbow. Gregory bent over, wincing.

"Very much so." She gave a sweet smile towards the brothers. "Are you boys staying for dinner? I make a mean mac'n'cheese casserole. Fill you up before you head out?"

Sam glanced over at Dean and nodded. "Yeah, sure. That'd be great, actually."

"Not like we have anywhere else to be at the moment."

"Great. I'll get dinner started, then." She began moving towards the kitchen and called, "Oh and Greg, check on Riley for me. She's been at work for a while."

"Sure," Gregory replied and gestured at the brothers. "Come on. I'll introduce you to my other two girls."

* * *

"Ah, there's my baby," Greg said as he stepped towards the black car. He ran his hand lightly over the hood.

"Wow. A Chevy Caprice?"

"1971," he said proudly and patted the roof.

"Hey Dad," a voice rang out from under the car and a young woman dressed in jeans and a tank top rolled out on a creeper. "I think we-" she looked up, "Oh, we have company."

"And this is my daughter. Honey, these are the Winchester boys."

"Winchester? As in John Winchester?" She pulled herself up, tugging one of her gloves off and plucking headphone buds out. She blew a loose strand of dark brown hair away from her eyes and extended her hand. "Name's Riley. Nice to finally meet you boys."

"Sam. This is my brother Dean."

"Need something, hon?" Gregory asked.

"Oh right. I think we're going to need a new axle. The old one's start to bend a bit."

"Ah, damn," he clicked his tongue and laid his hand on the hood of the car. "Poor baby- having to haul our heavy asses to and fro every day. You need some good TLC." He sighed. "You can get the extra axels from the back."

"Got it," Riley pulled off the other glove and tucked them halfway into her pocket, turning to look over at the brothers again. "Are you boys staying for dinner?"

"Yeah."

Riley grinned. "Great. Mom's making her famous casserole then?" Her father nodded. "Fantastic. See you later then." She walked off.

"Will she need any help?" Sam asked as they watched her turn into the back corner.

"Well, you're free to ask, but...I doubt it."

* * *

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Miller. The casserole was delicious," Sam said as they walked to the exterior of the garage.

"Please, Sam. It's Cecilia to you and your brother. And anytime. It's nice to have company. I'm sorry we don't have room for you to stay at our place, though."

"There's a motel you boys can crash at in town. Called the Chesapeake Inn. Oh and uh, boys. Riley will be leaving with you. Her mother and I have some unfinished business we'd like to get done, so we'll catch up later. That all right with you two?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied.

"I'd say 'take care of her', but I know my daughter can take care of herself. But watch her back. She's one hell of a spitfire, but she can get pretty reckless once her adrenaline starts pumpin'."

"Yes sir." They shook hands.

Riley came around the corner, a black duffel bag slung casually over her shoulder as she slipped past the last few cars in the garage.

Sam nudged Dean, nodding slightly in Riley's direction. Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, we'll be waiting at the car." The two turned and began walking towards the Impala.

"Hey," Riley said with a smile to her parents.

"Ready, kiddo?"

"Pretty much. Are you and Mom coming along?"

"We'll catch up soon, Ril- we've got some stuff to finish up. We'll call if anything comes up on the line."

"Right." She placed the bag on the ground, extending her arms out. "I'll see you soon then, dad."

"You got it." The Miller patriarch's gruff demeanor softened as he hugged his daughter and kissed her forehead with a proud, "Kick it in the ass."

"See you, Mom." Riley hugged her mother with a small grin.

Cecilia smiled and removed her necklace, placing it into Riley's hand. "Keep it close."

"I will," Riley replied as she picked up her duffel again and walked over to the Impala.

"Did anything come up in the last lead?" Cecilia murmured as the car rumbled to life.

"Yeah." His eyes hardened as he thought and threw his arm around his wife, gently squeezing her shoulder. "We're getting close."

She nodded silently, staring out into the starless sky.

* * *

"Rooms 24 and 25," Dean spoke as he sauntered out of the office and tossed a key to Riley. "You gonna be alright on your own?"

Riley let out a small laugh. "I'm 25, Dean. I can take care of myself." She pulled her duffel bag onto the crook of her elbow and began walking.

The group stopped at Room 24. "Right then. We'll let you get settled and see you in 10?"

"Yeah," she replied, unlocking her door and stepping inside. "See you in a few."

* * *

The young woman sighed as she flipped the lights on and tossed her bag onto the bed, pushing the door closed behind her.

_I guess I should go take a shower, _Riley thought as she walked over to the bed, pulling her jacket off. She stuck her hand into a pocket, pulling out her mother's necklace. The long silver chain wound around her fingers as she lifted the pendant- a small silver charm shaped like a drawstring bag with wings adorning the sides. It was a special heirloom of the family- brought down generation to generation. And considering how her mother had given it to her for safekeeping- it meant that her mother knew how much Riley would need it herself.

She had just noticed it glowing when she heard a voice behind her.

"You must be from the Miller family."

Riley yanked out a gun from the bag and spun around to see a rumpled angel standing there.

Castiel stared at her down the barrel of her gun. "Hello."

"Who the hell are you? How did you get here?" She clicked off the safety and held herself steady. "Answer me!"

Castiel sighed. "That will not hurt me. I am an angel."-

"Don't lie to me. Angels don't exist," she scoffed and glared. "Tell me right now, or so help me god, I will shoot you right now."

The door opened. "Whoa WHOA!" Dean strode in quickly, Sam right behind him. "Riley, put the gun down. That's Castiel- he's with us."

"He says he's an angel." She kept her eyes on Castiel and didn't lower her gun. "Angels don't exist."

"They do, Riley," Sam jumped in and looked over at the angel. "Cas, do something!"

"What-" The lights began to flash and spark as shadows of two wings unfurling appeared behind Castiel.

Her eyes widened and she backed away, her legs catching on the edge of the bed, her gun arm wavering.

"You're..." She finally spoke, still staring at Castiel with a mix of hesitation and disbelief. "You're really an angel?"

"Yes." Riley licked her lips, her throat feeling very dry. She lowered her gun slowly and put the safety back on, placing the gun on top of her bag. Dean and Sam watched her anxiously as she sat there, silently in thought.

"...Guys," she ran a hand over her face. "Can I please have a moment alone with Castiel?"

The two brothers glanced at each other and nodded.

"We'll be right outside if you need us," Dean said and the two went outside.

Riley examined her hands, unsure how to begin. She was having one hell of a war with her own conscience at the moment. She had never heard of angels actually existing, but after seeing those wings...she wasn't even sure _what _to assume anymore. But if Castiel was what he said he was, then...what did she have to lose?

"Castiel," Riley began quietly. "If you're really an angel...can you please tell me something?"

"I will do my best."

She took a deep breath. "Are my siblings-"

"Yes."

The young Miller looked up sharply at his reply. "Are they really?"

"As far as I know."

Silence filled the air again. Castiel stood there awkwardly, his gaze on her.

"That's..." she whispered, "That's such a relief..." Riley started to laugh, her lips spread into the widest smile as she beamed at the angel. He stared as she stood up again and patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you. I can't-" She let out the breath she had been holding, a little of the weight on her heart lifting, the clouds in her mind parting.

A glimmer of promise.

Her fingers lightly squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you," Riley repeated and turned away, striding to the door to open it.

"Hey Riley-"

"I'm fine." She glanced back at Castiel. "I, um...actually feel a bit tired. Do you mind if I talk to you guys in the morning?"

"Yeah sure. C'mon, Cas- we need to talk." She stood back as the angel walked past her. "Good night."

"Night," Riley replied and let the door close, letting her back press against it.

It had been a while since she had heard good news.

* * *

And so ends the second chapter! Obviously tons of sprinkles about what's going to be going on for the next few chapters as well as a little overview on Riley and her family. I'm going to start working on the third chapter after finals (which are next week- yikes) and hopefully have it out for you soon enough! And since I've actually been able to write out a decent outline on the entire story, I should be able to complete things in a more orderly fashion. Thanks for being so patient with me!

Until then,

/strophic


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